The Rad Race: Chronicles of Isaac Croisso
by Sir Thinkstoomuch
Summary: The first big story for Isaac Croisso. Takes place approx. 8 years after Fallout 3, so 2286-87 or so. Eh. Rated T mostly but some M themes so just being safe. More info inside in each chapter.
1. 1: Haven't We Been Through This Before?

_Edit: Okay, REposting this chapter because I went back and rewrote some of the story and changed some things and added stuff. The Weapon Information Profiles are something I just wanted to put in here because I think it'd be so cool to have a spec of the weapon appear if you imagine this as a movie._

_Alright, it's been a long while since I uploaded anything, and I know I didn't finish my last story, but looking back, I don't think I want to. I realized when I read it that it sucked, and I much prefer this story. I was so busy with everything going on since I last wrote a story that I've had little time to work on another, but here it is anyways: The Rad Race. Chronicles of Isaac Croisso (pronounced like "croissant" but visibly different). Everything in this story takes place roughly 8 years after the (supposed) ending of Fallout 3. And if you're wondering why I make Isaac out as a sort of Super-Special-Awesome Human, just consider it for a moment. By the end of Fallout 3, you're basically the most powerful person in the world, if you played the game right (which I bloody well did). There's absolutely no reason this stuff WOULDN'T happen in real life in the several years afterwards._

_In this chapter and the next there are several allusions to stuff that happened between the end of the real game and this story. I plan to start with this story as a base, and go backwards building upon the allusions, or forward doing other stuff. Or somewhere in between. Eh._

Isaac ascended the stairs feeling rather good about himself. Trudging along close behind him was his companion and bodyguard, Fawkes, an "intelligent" Super Mutant that Isaac had saved from a life of everlasting hell in a virtually abandoned vault.

Isaac emerged from the metro tunnel and climbed the stairs into the sunshine. It shined brilliantly off of his bright purple-dyed hair. The Capitol Wasteland may have been hot and desolate, but it was still better than being stuck in the stinking, slinking subway tunnels. Especially when they were infested with Feral Ghouls.

But the prize had been obtained. Isaac ran his hand over his new weapon. It had been a bitch to get, but he finally had it now, and that's what counted. The Burnmaster. The most powerful and unique Flamer weapon in existence. Fiery, decimating, beautiful. It was a work of art. But sadly, its destiny was to be forever in his trophy case. Flamers just weren't his style.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Burnmaster*_

_A unique version of the generic Flamer weapon, the Burnmaster delivers more heat and therefore higher damage per burst than a regular Flamer. However, this is the only redeeming quality, opposing the Burnmaster's twin setbacks of cumbersome weight and slow rate of fire, which all Flamers share. However, emitting fire instead of firing bullets also has its own independent advantages._

As he ran his hand over the Burnmaster, Fawkes tapped Isaac on the shoulder with a huge, yellow-green finger. "There is something strange about this place now," he pointed towards the river that ran parallel to them. A large cart was parked in the middle of the decrepit roadway that lay between them and the river. It was covered, with a large canvas sheet pulled up around it, hanging from a roof, obscuring the inside from view. Two Brahmin were tied to the cart, obviously used to pull it along. Two-headed, irradiated cows, Brahmin were descended from the areas old pre-war cows. Docile beings, they did little but eat unless they were being controlled. The cows seemed to laze about, staying close to the cart.

"Do you think it is trouble?" Fawkes asked Isaac inquiringly.

"No. Even if it is bait for a merc ambush, it's not like we can't handle it. Brahmin are too useful to leave out in the open alone anyway. My guess is they're in the cart, and probably dead."

"I shall explore it then," volunteered Fawkes, and taking out his Gatling Laser, he trudged towards the cart.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Gatling Laser*_

_Similar to your everyday Minigun, the Gatling Laser is a pinnacle of Pre-War science, emitting high-intensity laser bursts at twenty shots per second. Its combination of high damage, large magazine, good durability, and high rate of fire make it one of the most formidable forces on the battlefield. These infinitely useful perks are opposed only by its great weight._

The Brahmin looked over at the approaching giant momentarily, but lost interest quickly, and went back to eating what little grass there was around them.

Fawkes approached the back opening to the canvas and thrust in the barrel of his Laser. Nothing happened, so he moved in closer and pulled away some of the canvas. With a jerk, he turned around to Isaac and called to him. "I should think you would want to see this!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Isaac strapped the Burnmaster to his back and walked over. The Super Mutant pulled open the canvas and let Isaac see inside. "Dear Atom! This is amazing!" Isaac's eyes widened. Inside the cart were piles upon piles of guns. Chinese Assault Rifles, American-made ones too, Pistols, the 10mm and Laser varieties, Grenades of all types. Even ammo for all of them. The inventory seemed almost limitless. It was a junk pile of guns bigger than any merchants' Isaac had ever seen. Lucky Harith would not be pleased.

"What should we do, my friend? The owner does not seem to be around."

"We shall wait," said Isaac. "Someone with this amount of firepower to expend should surely be powerful, or at least have powerful connections. It should be worth meeting them."

"But what if they do not come?"

"You ever hear the saying, Fawkes, 'Finders keepers?'"

…

The pair waited around for several hours, looking through the various guns. Fawkes, being a polite and (at least slightly) cultured Super Mutant, had taken it upon himself to organize the guns by size around the cabin. It was a bit difficult for him, considering he could not climb inside the cart to do so. His bulk would've probably broken it.

Isaac sat upon the roof of the cart, polishing his new prize. He was a sucker for rare weapons. He had taken it upon himself after saving D.C. from the Enclave (among other threats) several years ago to collect every special weapon the Wasteland had to offer. He even traveled outside it at times to find some. These excursions were a sort of hobby/safari that Isaac regularly undertook, breaking from his new job.

After many of his heroic exploits Isaac had taken it upon himself to become the new Ambassador (and substitute Sherriff) of Megaton. Using his incredible fortune and influences he opened large-scale trading circuits with Rivet City, Arefu, Big Town, Canterbury Commons, The Republic of Dave, Underworld, Tenpenny Tower, Little Lamplight, The Brotherhood of Steel, and even their Outcasts. He had even opened negotiations (reluctantly) with the slavers of Paradise Falls. The circuit, called Wasteland Allies Enterprises, was a huge network of fortified trade routes between every city, with regular checkpoints and guards. The circuits, safe from most contingent ambushes, allowed quick and easy travel for caravans and individual traders across the Wasteland.

With the circuit as protected as it was, it became a simple matter for caravans to transport large cargo throughout the wastes. With this amount of freedom, towns could easily obtain huge supplies of metal, rock, and other such things. With these shipments, many of the less fortified towns were built up and expanded. Megaton itself was expanded to around seven times its original size, annexing the nearby Springdale. The remodeling of the cities became known as the Capitol Renovations.

With the new additions to the city, Isaac had set apart an old section of Megaton, namely, his old home and the area surrounding it, to build into a sort of fortified bunker. He used the bunker to store his supply of rare weaponry, to be used to outfit Megaton in case of invasion. Now all he needed to do was fill it.

As Isaac sat atop the cart polishing the new Flamer he sensed someone approaching. He looked down the road and saw a figure approaching him and Fawkes at a good pace. He squinted and noticed the figure was actually running. And at a good speed too.

As the figure approached Isaac could make out its features. It was lanky, definitely human, Caucasian, with white hair. An albino? No way. They couldn't survive out here. It was probably bleached. But nevertheless, it was human, and that was something. It was dressed in merc clothing as well. Not surprising. If it was a Raider it wouldn't be alone. As it got closer Isaac jumped down to meet the figure.

He began walking towards the figure when a shot rang past him. Instinctively Isaac drew his pistol. The Novasurge. Most powerful Plasma Pistol in existence. Mostly owing to the fact that it was an early prototype. Efficient in damage, but ate up ammo like it was fresh water. For every rose a thorn, of course.

_*Weapon Information Profile: MPLX Novasurge*_

_Probably the oldest prototype for what was to become the standard Plasma Pistol, the Novasurge was a promising first experiment, but unfortunately had its understandable share of defects. While its power is truly formidable and deadly, compared not only to its future counterpart but also most other weapons, it owes this quirk to the fact that it eats up ammo twice as fast as the perfected Plasma Pistol. In addition, its built-in energy transmuter is a significant part of this weapon's prototype status, and subsequently makes the weapon weigh twice as much as the regular. Weighing pros and cons, it is a worthwhile weapon, especially when push comes to shove._

He trained it on the figure and waited for it to get closer. Another shot rang out. It once again missed Isaac by a close distance. "Stop!" Isaac yelled, and took a stand in front of the figure.

Surprisingly, the figure stopped. Isaac could make out more features now. It was almost definitely a man, and was indeed very skinny. His white hair stood straight up on his head, spiked up in columns, like tiny stalagmites. His features were very sharp and almost bony. He wore a heavy-looking overcoat but no shirt and several ammo belts were slung across his torso. His pants were dark and looked leathery, and he wore combat boots. But the most prominent feature out of everything was that he was wearing a pair of large, red-lens goggles.

"Why are you shooting at me?" yelled Isaac, pistol still trained on the man. As he yelled he noticed that Fawkes had come running up behind him, Gatling Laser at the ready. "Standby," he ordered Fawkes quietly, still not taking his eyes off the man.

The man answered promptly and with a shrieking yell. "Get away from my caravan!" he screamed. And took another shot. This one hit Fawkes straight in the shoulder. Fawkes let out a yell and tried to take aim. "No, Fawkes! It's a warning shot!" yelled Isaac, abandoning his stance and going over to his friend. "He's got a Sniper. That was a warning shot," he stated again.

_*Weapon Information Profile: .308 DKS-501*_

_A powerful weapon in anyone's hands, the .308 caliber version of the DKS-501 Sniper Rifle was much easier to manufacture than its larger caliber counterparts, and so more exist than other types. A significant caliber rifle with a five-ammo cartridge, the .308 is a little weighty, but makes up for it with a built in scope and a powerful firing mechanism. A dead-on shot with this weapon has a considerable chance of at the very least knocking a buffalo-sized target over, if it does not kill them outright. Its only real downside is its kickback and slow rate of fire, although using a sniper rifle for its intended purpose would leave little chance for these to significantly affect combat with this weapon._

"The next one will hit a more lucrative target for sure. I need to reason with him," he reassured his bodyguard.

Isaac let go of Fawkes, who lowered the weapon, and threw his hands up, pistol still in one of them, just in case. "This is your caravan, is it? We meant no harm, we found it and was waiting for the owner. I would like to speak with you."

The man stood with his rifle trained on them for several seconds, then, slowly, he lowered it a bit. "Drop your weapons. Now," he said and followed up by lowering his weapon even more.

Isaac nodded to Fawkes and they both holstered their weapons. "We will not drop our weapons, but we won't shoot. Now, we mean no harm, we simply want to know what you are doing here. This is Wasteland Allies Enterprises controlled space. You are not a registered trade caravan. Where do you come from and what are you doing here?" Nothing about this explanation was really true, except for the justification of peace, but it wasn't good to show any patience or that you were inherently friendly to strangers in the Wastes.

"Hmph," grunted the man, holstering his weapon as well. He proceeded to walk towards Isaac at a brisk pace. Isaac stood stone still, in an overbearing stance, to discourage any sudden bursts of bravado by his opponent. But to his surprise the man proceeded to walk _straight past_ him, and over to his caravan. When he reached it, he proceeded to hammer one of the foreheads of one of his Brahmin.

"You ridiculous, useless, oversized excuse for a barbecued dinner!" he yelled at it. "I knew you'd pull some shit like this! If you weren't so strong I'd slaughter you and trade you in for a new cart puller! I leave you hidden real well in a nice little clearing, and what do you do? You fucking move straight out into the road where everyone and everything can see you! Do you realize how fucked I'd be if all of my inventory were to just go missing! Raided by some insipid… Raider! The thought of it! Gah!" he continued to yell and abuse his Brahmin by hammering his fist on its forehead. The Brahmin seemed to recognize the blows, but stood and took the abuse without raising so much as a hoof. "Do you want me to suffer, is that it? Do you want me to have to use you as rations because I have no more caps for food? Huh? Do you!"

There proceeded to be a pause between the two. Then the Brahmin let out a low "Moo!" and went back to eating grass below it. The man threw his hands up in surrender and stormed over angrily to the back of his caravan. "Now who the hell messed up my guns!"

Isaac had been mildly amused by this little show, but now he wanted some answers, and he was going to fucking get them. He walked back to the caravan and stood at the back watching the man, who was busy rustling around inside and undoing Fawkes' tidying up. "Excuse me. I believe I had asked you some questions? What are you doing here and where do you come from?"

"Eh?" said the man, turning around. "Why do you care? It's none of your business."

"That's where you're wrong, Wastelander," stated Isaac. "I am Isaac Croisso, Ambassador of Megaton Town. I am one of the most powerful people in the entire Capitol Wasteland, and I have full jurisdiction over everything that happens on this Trade Circuit." Another lie, this time only partially, but useful in negotiations.

The man blinked and stared at Isaac for a moment, then smiled. Isaac knew the look well. It was the kind of smile a merchant got when he saw potential for a big cash-in. "Well then, Ambassador," said the man with a salute, "The name's Fozzy, experienced weapons merchant from the American Northeast. I've traveled clear across the Atlantic Seaboard and back again. This is my third visit to the Capitol Wasteland," continued Fozzy, jumping out of the cart to shake Isaac's hand. "And this time I've come to cash in big."

"On what, may I ask?" inquired Isaac.

"Why, on weapons dealings. You all are going to need all you can get soon."

"Oh really? And why would that be?"

"Jeez, didn't ya hear?"

"Hear what?" asked Isaac, suddenly feeling that familiar pit in the bottom of his stomach.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard anything, with your big Trade Circuit and everything. I mean, come on, this is our old nation's grand capitol. And you can't even get intel from 500 miles away? No scouts or anything? I mean come on, the Commonwealth-"

"What happened, Fozzy!" yelled Isaac, losing his patience and grabbing Fozzy by the lapels.

"Dude, chill. It's just a surprise you didn't hear about it. I figured this entire place would've been up in arms about it."

"Up in arms about WHAT?" Isaac was about to blow a gasket.

Fozzy smiled again. But this wasn't the old merchant smile, no. This was one of those cruel smiles that struck a cold vein on the back of your neck. "Why haven't you heard?" he asked again. "The Chinese are coming."


	2. 2: Good Ol' Democracy

_I was dying to do a courtroom scene in a fanfic, and was lucky to be able to have it fit in with this story, and it turned out better than I would've thought. This chapter sheds some isolated light on the backstory of the new Capitol Wasteland, in addition to adding some interesting foreshadowing to the story and giving me a chance to practice out the characters' personalities, which I believe I captured quite well. If you think I should've done something differently with them, I'm open to criticism._

"Order, order! This meeting of the Capitol Wasteland Congress will come to order!"

Isaac lowered his gavel and sat down in his chair. He looked around the almost-complete-circle of tables that had been set up for the meeting. The Capitol Wasteland Congress was the official name of a meeting of all the ambassadors from the various towns in the Wasteland. Isaac headed the meetings as representative of Megaton Town (the new title of Megaton since it was expanded). He sat just past the nine o' clock position.

"Now, a very unsettling matter has come to my attention, and I believe it would interest you all to hear of it, as it may tell the fate of our future Capitol."

"So stop stallin' and tell us already, if it's so important," suggested a voice on the far side of the room. Isaac glanced over at Eulogy Jones, near the 4 o' clock position of the circle. Eulogy was the current leader of the Slavers at Paradise Falls. He had been for almost twenty years now, though they didn't capture people for slaves anymore. The practice was abolished during the Renovations. Criminals were now deported there for incarceration, so even though they weren't really "Slavers" anymore, they were still called so. Some habits were just hard to break.

"I was getting to it, Eulogy," replied Isaac coldly. No one much liked Eulogy, mostly because he was the Slaver leader. Isaac couldn't have cared less, but Eulogy was the least for patience in the meetings, and it annoyed Isaac a bit. "I have just recently learned of a terrible plague that may soon infect out Capitol Wasteland."

"You mean a sickness?" asked an inquiring voice from just past the twelve o' clock position. It belonged to Jake Carding, formerly known as Pappy. He was the ambassador of Big Town, and had traded his Little Lamplight nickname in when Big Town became completely independent. Everyone had.

"No, but it may be just as bad. As it turns out, our age-old enemies the Chinese have deemed it necessary to finish what they started more than two hundred years ago."

A distressed murmur went up around the room. "But why now! The Chinese have been almost non-existent since Alaska's Liberation, before the Great War!" exclaimed Mayor Joseph, sitting next to Jake Carding at their table. He was the current mayor of Lamplight Caverns, deemed so after MacCready had "failed" in negotiations during the Capitol Renovations. Under Joseph's wise leadership, Little Lamplight was turned back into the original Lamplight Caverns and renovated, jointing with Vault 87 after it was cleansed of Super Mutants and most of its radiation. In addition, the "Children Only" rule was abolished, allowing all manner of people to live in Lamplight's relative safety.

"Not true," responded Isaac. "I have seen remnants of several Chinese spies in various places throughout this Wasteland. Many survived as Ghouls, and have been keeping to their missions, even after 200 years. But that's not important. Intel I have received from a traveling merchant suggests that the Chinese have moved a huge invasion force across the north of America and all the way into the Commonwealth. Last time they were heard from they had apparently destroyed everything in the area, including the infamous Institute."

"The Institute? If they could destroy anything that powerful they could surely run rampant over us," noted Harkness, the Android ambassador of Rivet City, sitting to Isaac's left at the next table over. Harkness was secretly and android that had escaped years ago from the Institute, and tried to wipe his own memory of it. Isaac had recovered it though, and Harkness ended up being the sole runner of Rivet City's personal affairs after Dr. Li had left. Seagrave wasn't very helpful, as he was constantly busy with his shop and the other Rivet City merchants as well that had decided to stay anchored in the ship-town.

"Wait a second, wait a second!" cried a voice just past 6 o' clock. It was the venerable Allastair Tenpenny, owner of Tenpenny Tower. "We don't even know if this intelligence can be trusted! Who is this alleged merchant? I demand to speak to him directly!"

"Much as I want to believe you, Isaac, I agree with Tenpenny," commented Master Silas, just past eight o' clock, at the table to the right of Isaac. Silas was the son of Henry Casdin, the founder of the Brotherhood of Steel Outcasts. Though his father still ran the Outcasts, now referred to as the Western Brotherhood Detachment, Silas was ambassador for the sect's political standings. "We need to question this merchant directly, and see for ourselves how credible he is."

"I thought someone here would have the sense to question me," commented Isaac. Isaac was a nice guy, but he didn't keep personal relationships inside the Congress. That was the problem with several of the Congress members. Some of them trusted Isaac so much that they would follow him blindly. "I still have the merchant in detainment, with appropriate accommodations of course. Ladies and gentlemen of the Congress, I hereby call Fozzy, the Weapons Merchant, to the podium."

Two Knights escorted Fozzy in from outside the room. He was placed in a chair in the middle of the room that sat in front of a large, rectangular table. As his eyes met Isaac he sensed a little fear in the merchant's eyes. He probably wasn't used to this kind of order in the Wasteland.

"Fozzy, you have been called to this meeting of the Capital Wasteland Congress to shed light on a controversial issue. You have told me of an invading Chinese force headed for the Capital Wasteland. I may believe you, but the rest of the Congress is wary. How do you intend to give us concrete proof of this invasion?"

"Concrete proof!" exclaimed Fozzy, as if he hadn't expected the question at all. "What more proof do you need that I'd come all the way down here from the Commonwealth with a cart full of weaponry under minimal guard! I was doin' a nice round up at the Institute about a month or so ago when those buggers descended on us like a bunch of Ferals!"

Isaac noticed Gob, the delegate from Underworld, seated just before six, was looking a little frustrated at this last comment. Regular Ghouls may have had no good feelings for Feral Ghouls, but they still felt some pity for the zombies and, by extent, themselves when everyone talked trash about them. Isaac decided to change the direction of the conversation quickly. "So you were there when the Chinese attacked?"

"Sure I was! They came in waves! I saw them—"

"Wait a minute, now," interrupted Reilly, the leader of Reilly's Rangers, just past one. "How in the world were you there when they attacked and you still got away unscathed?"

Fozzy looked a little taken back at the contradiction. "I wasn't at the Institute when they attacked it. I was at a hotel just a quarter-mile away. I saw the fires from my window."

"So how did you know it was the Chinese if you were a quarter mile away? You couldn't have seen them from there," pointed out Mayor Joseph.

Fozzy's brow furrowed and he began to sweat. "I-I went to see of course."

"Why would you have gone to see if there were fires? It could have been dangerous," commented Master Lyons. Sarah sat next to Isaac, and had taken over the Brotherhood after her father stepped down some years back. When he had stepped down, there were many changes made to suit the members and settle some sore feelings, especially between them and the Outcasts. For one, it was no longer called the Brotherhood of Steel, but instead the Knighthood of the Wastes. "Furthermore," she continued, "How did you escape the Chinese and manage to get here before an entire invasion force? I would think a solitary merchant would be less of a challenge to the Wastes than a Chinese army. You would have had a hard time traversing the Wasteland if you got here as fast as you say. You would have had to travel straight under nightfall."

"And we all know how dangerous that is, even here," commented Hannibal Hamlin, leader of the liberated slaves down in the Lincoln Mall. He sat next to Reilly, at just before two. Hannibal, with some help, had annexed the Mall from the Super Mutants some years ago, and created a haven for former slaves where they could recover their bruised bodies and psyches. He shared the area with the Ghouls in Underworld, although they mostly stayed inside the Museum of History in spite of the kindness.

Fozzy was getting visibly frustrated. "What is this? Some kind of inquisition?"

"Now don't beat up on the poor boy," defended Three Dog, sitting next to Master Silas over at eight.

Three Dog had retired from his station at GNR a few years ago and set up a new one in the corner of the Wasteland where the Republic of Dave used to stand. After some hijinks with the previous "ruler", he replaced him and began the Tri-Hound Republic, a small town with massive fortifications dedicated to spreading Three Dog's message through the large radio antennae placed in the middle of the town. Many people never came to the town because of its comparable distance from anything else (even though the trade route went through there), but it was rumored that you weren't allowed in unless you surrendered all your weapons at the gate. Everyone in the THR was reputed to be a peace-loving hippy, and so the fortifications were necessary to discourage sieges.

"He could've made it back in time," Three Dog continued, "I'd think a Lone Wanderer could move faster than an army. Less breaks, less food needs, less sleep," he made an almost imperceptible nod in Isaac's direction.

"Yeah, it wasn't anything really difficult. My Brahmin can travel pretty fast when I want them to," agreed Fozzy quickly, obviously thankful for the break.

"So why did you go and see what was happening at the Institute? This question hasn't been answered yet," said Master Lyons.

"I haven't answered yet 'cause you all haven't given me a chance! I saw fire at the Institute and thought something had gone wrong. Fire begets panic, and it's my experience that in a panic people tend to leave precious things unattended."

Uh oh. This could hurt Fozzy's credibility. Isaac had to pull something fast, before someone—"

"You see! He's just a thief! He could be making up the whole invasion story to scare everyone and sell all his wares at a premium!" exclaimed Tenpenny.

"You old coot!" yelled Ernest Roe, mayor of Canterbury Commons. He was a well-known merchant supplier and negotiator, so it was no surprise to anyone when he spoke up for the witness. "You don't know anything! Why would he have risked his life in a burning building for some extra caps!"

"You merchants will do anything to gain a quick buck! Even if it means your own lives!" spat Eulogy.

"The same could be said of you, you damned Slavers!" yelled back Hamlin.

Isaac groaned, though no one heard it. The room was filled with shouts and curses, each ambassador yelling at the other. Only he and Fozzy were silent, and Fozzy didn't look very good anyways. He was sweating profusely and looked sick

Isaac picked up his gavel again. "Now that's enough!" he yelled, banging it again and again until there was silence. As he set it down again he sighed. "It seems I have shown incomplete judgment today. There is no concrete evidence Fozzy can produce that can prove an invasion force is approaching. However, in light of suspicion, we will set up a scouting outpost for contingencies. Now if there are no further questions, we will dismiss the mer—"

"NOW JUST WAIT A GODDAMNED MINUTE!"

Everyone looked down at Fozzy. His pale complexion was gone, replaced by a reddish complexion of rage. "Fozzy, I'm sorry," began Isaac "But you have failed to produce evidence—"

"I'VE GOT EVIDENCE!"

"You… You do?" Isaac was taken aback, honestly surprised.

"Yeah I do! A thief I may be, but not a liar!" Fozzy reached into his coat and pulled out a holodisk. "If it would please the court," said the merchant with a sneer, "I'd like to present a conversation I recorded while I was hiding from some Chinese in the Institute. I hid myself in a supply closet with some tech I scavenged when a detachment almost blew my cover."

"Why didn't you present this evidence before?" inquired Isaac, visibly annoyed.

Fozzy smirked. "'A true merchant can convince anyone of anything with words alone.' That is an ancient merchant credo, and one of my most basic rules. It seems I still have training left if I cannot live up to it," he admitted with crossed arms.

Isaac looked over at Roe for some sort of confirmation. Roe met Isaac's gaze and shrugged. Obviously it was not a very widely-known merchant credo.

"It is considered a charge of Fraudulence to present an issue to a court with no evidence. You would have been at the mercy of our records had this new information not come to light," stated Isaac, although this claim's importance was next to none.

"Nevertheless…," continued Fozzy, as he pulled out a holodisk player. He inserted the recording and stood back, leaving it on the table. First, static. Then, a smattering of Chinese, mostly yelling. It sounded like two of them. Then a pause. Isaac looked at Fozzy, who had his head down, chewing his lip, looking at the recording, probably reflecting on how this played out in real life. The Chinese speaking started up again, then continued, dying down in volume until static overtook the recording again. Fozzy stepped back up and turned off the recording.

There was a silence around the room. "Um…," started Isaac, unsure. "Does anybody here speak Chinese?"

Harkness spoke up. "Lucky for us, I do." Ah, yes. Isaac remembered then that Harkness was an android, and any android, no doubt one from the Institute, would probably come standard with some sort of language moderator.

"So," said Isaac, gesticulating at Harkness, "Tell us what they said." An unneeded but nevertheless inevitable murmur of agreement went around the room.

"The short version…," paused Harkness, informing everyone of his intentions. "There were two footsoldiers. That's what it sounded like anyway. One of them was yelling at the other for dragging him back in to scavenge tech, then the other one blamed some officials. I use the word 'official' because I'm not exactly sure of a translation. Then they paused, I would guess because they heard something. Probably you, Fozzy."

Fozzy frowned. "Anyway," continued Harkness, "They dismissed the sound, and walked out. The rest of the recording is idle chatter, something about some kind of animal."

"See?" said Fozzy, "There really was a Chinese invasion force there!"

"But we're still not completely certain of that," pointed out Master Silas. "A single holotape recording decisive evidence does not make."

"Correct," affirmed Isaac, "But I believe a scouting mission is still in order. I will assemble three small Strike Teams for the effort. Most of you will need to contribute to them."

"A Strike Team? Why would we need a Strike Team?" asked Tenpenny.

"Three Strike Teams, I said. They will each have an individually important task. After we figure out who's being contributed, I can figure out who will do what. We will speak tonight on the matter, for time is short, but we all have some other matters to attend to."

"Well, wait, what happens to me!" asked Fozzy, still annoyed that he'd been dragged here.

Isaac smiled his trademark negotiation smile at Isaac. The merchant gulped. It had that effect on people. "I'm not leaving here, am I?" he asked nervously.


	3. 3: Isaac's Terminal Notes Vol 1

_This is the first of several unique chapters I will put into this story and probably others that detail Isaac's recordings in his personal computer. I'm very happy with the turnout, as it went through many, many changes before I decided I liked it. Also, the passwords and code numbers AREN'T just something to look cool. They have actual corresponding meanings. For and from what I shall not tell you, although you should be able to figure out the code numbers with some thought. They're not important anyways._

_This chapter has incomplete backstory that ties in with the last chapter. You can figure out some of the parts yourself. Two specific things though: Evergreen Park is the new reconstruction of Evergreen Mills. It's not a typo. Two, with the addition of a couple previously unknown member of the Congress detailed in this chapter, see if you can piece together how it's arranged looks. Cheers._

Login:

User_Lone_Wanderer

Password:

Processing…

Welcome Isaac Croisso!

Please choose your desired directory from the list below…

Processing…

Notes on File C-3-564

Which sub-directory do you wish to explore?

…

Information on Strike Teams

Processing…

Strike Team Alpha

Codename: Watching Shadows

Purpose: Undergo a trek north-northwest of the Capitol Wasteland and scout out evidence of Invasion Force. If found, return immediately under stealth to Capital Wasteland. Last checkpoint is the remains of Trenton.

Total Members: 5

Members:

Isaac Croisso (Megaton Town)

Fawkes (Megaton Town)

Dogmeat (Megaton Town)

Donovan (Evergreen Park)

Fozzy (N/A)

…

Strike Team Beta

Codename: Pitt Fighters

Purpose: Travel to the Pitt to find if anything has happened. Inform them of the current situation if it is unknown.

Total Members: 6

Members:

Star Paladin Cross (Knighthood of the Wastes)

Seargent RL-3 (Canterbury Commons)

Charon (Underworld)

Vance (Arefu Causeway)

Machete (Canterbury Commons)

Lucy (Lamplight Caverns)

…

Strike Team Gamma

Codename: Steel Barrier

Purpose: Gather resources and other members to scout out the northern Capitol Wasteland for Invasion Force scouts or detachments. Create checkpoints along northern border to repel possible invasion.

Total Members: 4

Members:

Harkness (Rivet City)

Master Silas (West Brotherhood Detachment)

Jotun (Paradise Falls)

Roy Phillips (Tenpenny Tower)

…

Settlements not able to donate members:

Big Town

Tri-Hound Republic

Lincoln Mall

…

Please Choose another Sub-Directory

Processing…

Overall Member List

Processing…

Member: Isaac Croisso

Team: 1st

Position: 1st Team Leader

Individual Holdout Ability: Very High (If I do say so myself)

Notes: I'm glad Fozzy was able to convince the rest of the Congress of the Invasion. I may be able to tell when people are lying or not, but it takes something more concrete to the untrained eye. Ear. Whatever.

'Long as I'm off on this escapade, Simms will be occupying my seat. I have every confidence that he will be perfect as my replacement, but I'm worried about Moriarty being left unchecked back in Megaton Town. Think I'll ask for a detachment of the Brotherhood to stand in for the good sheriff. Should keep Moriarty suppressed enough while Simms is away.

I've never been north of the Capitol Wasteland, not counting the Pitt of course. I won't deny that I'm frightened, as any sane person would be, but at the same time I'm thrilled. Perhaps I will find some more unique weapons. I had always hoped to visit the Institute for that very reason. Shame I won't be able to anymore.

I wonder if they got ol' Dr. Li…

…

Member: Star Paladin Cross

Team: 2nd

Position: 2nd Team Leader

Individual Holdout Ability: Very High

Notes: I had hoped Lyons would volunteer herself for the mission, but Cross is just as good. After all, even if she isn't as talented as Lyons, I do know her better. Her connection with me helped me choose exactly how she'd be placed in the strike teams. Sometimes, after all these years I've spent alongside Lyons, I think she knows me better than I know myself…

I never did ask Cross if the rumors about her surgery were true. I figured it would be an invasion of privacy. Not that I'd care anyway, but we've got a working relationship after all. For the sake of the mission, I hope it's true.

I chose Cross to lead the 2nd Strike Team because she is the only remaining, functioning member of the Knighthood besides Kodiak that has at least second-hand knowledge of the Scourge. I would've preferred Kodiak but he's off on another mission of secret importance at the moment, and won't be back for some time. I hope for Cross' sake she knows exactly what it's like over there. I'd go myself, but my experience would be put to far better use leading the primary Strike Team. Think I'll ask Cross to go and drop by Midea's place to say 'Hi' to Marie for me. Wonder how the wee lass is doin'.

…

Member: A3-21 a.k.a. Harkness

Team: 3rd

Position: 3rd Team Leader

Individual Holdout Ability: High

Notes: Harkness trusts me a little too much, I'm afraid. I was duly surprised when he volunteered himself to take on the mission. Who is going to take charge of his chair while he's gone? I plead that it won't be Holmes. Guy's too high-strung and his reputation is still under fire after all these years. I suppose you never stop being a slaver in some people's eyes.

It was a difficult decision between Harkness and Silas to lead the 3rd Strike Team, but when I contemplated it a bit, Harkness's advanced cybernetic brain would be better suited for the job. Silas, a bit reluctantly, agreed, but I suspect I'll be getting some flak from his old man soon.

I still haven't told anyone about Harkness's little secret, so the details regarding his authority are going to remain a bit sketchy in the records. Although now that the Institute is gone, does it really matter? After this is over, if we win, I suppose we can send some scouts out to the Institute to see what the situation is. My little present to him after all the help Harkness has given me over the years.

…

Member: Fawkes

Team: 1st

Position: Frontline

Individual Holdout Ability: Extremely High

Notes: Now where would I be without my right-hand Mutant? The old tank will be invaluable during the mission. Hell, he could probably withstand a good battalion of those chinks by himself and live to tell about it. I'll keep him in front of the group…

…

Member: Seargent RL-3

Team: 2nd

Position: Frontline

Individual Holdout Ability: High

Notes: I don't know why, but something tells me that RL-3 would be perfect for the Pitt facet of the mission. He'll be Cross's only frontline fighter though, so I can only hope he'll withstand whatever happens to them. I know that the old Tinman was built well, but those Trogs… I'm not so sure…

…

Member: Master Silas Casdin

Team: 3rd

Position: Frontline

Individual Holdout Ability: High

Notes: Silas is a good listener of reason. I'm thankful that I didn't have to have a huge argument between him and Harkness for 3rd Team Leader. His dad will probably have something different to say about it though. But for now, eh…. What I'm really worried about is who's going to replace Silas on the chair while he's away. Twenty caps says it'll be his old man.

Silas doesn't have a whole lot of combat experience anyway, except for his escapades with the Brotherhood for lost tech. He was always a politician at heart, that much can be gathered just from talking with him for a bit. I'm glad that he could represent the Brotherhood in the Congress, instead of his father. Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against Henry, but the man would be bad news in the type of negotiations we have.

I'm almost surprised Silas volunteered for this. He hasn't done a whole lot of live combat in a while, and I'm worried. I can only hope he'll stay in close contact with Harkness. The proximity will probably allow them both to cover each other's weaknesses…

…

Member: Jotun

Team: 3rd

Position: Frontline

Individual Holdout Ability: High

Notes: I was… reluctant about taking in a Slaver for this mission. But I needed one of Eulogy's forces, and Jotun is, I must admit, the best of the best that Eulogy can offer. I hear his father died a while back in a botched scavenge mission. Bastard was jumped by a group of Deathclaws. Dead before they could drive the fuckers away. Sad indeed. I hear he's been… aimless, to say the least.

Eulogy assured me that he has brightened upon hearing about the new mission. I can only hope he's telling the truth. The last thing we need is a depressed retard on the front. If he is properly functional, he'll definitely be a good addition to the force. Personally, I don't think he ever really wanted to be a Slaver, but he is definitely made for the job. Isn't it odd how life works that way? I hear he's officially the best swing with a Super Sledge this side of the Wasteland…

…

Member: Roy Phillips

Team: 3rd

Position: Frontline

Individual Holdout Ability: Medium

Notes: It's no surprise Tenpenny "convinced" one of the Ghouls rather than one from his own security force to come along. I'm just relieved Phillips didn't raise a stink about it. And on the bright side, he is probably a better candidate than those rent-a-cops.

Phillips may be much more of a loose cannon than anyone else Tenpenny could send, but he's also much more wily. He'll be invaluable as a scout and as a commander. Perhaps we'll round up some Ferals and let him work his Ghoul magic on 'em. Pits with Ferals would work as wonderful traps for a charging invasion force…

…

Member: Vance

Team: 2nd

Position: Scout/Black Ops

Individual Holdout Ability: Medium

Notes: Holly is a right smart gal. She may stay silent in most of the Congress's proceedings, but she's one of the best strategists I know. Small as the Arefu Causeway is, I was surprised that she could spare somebody to help us. Oh, but did she spare someone…

Vance is probably the absolute best scout I could ask for. I'm really surprised Holly could convince him to leave his "flock" for a bit, but I'm not one to question these peoples' methods. Vance's "abilities" will definitely be invaluable on a trip to the Pitt. I theorize the town's dark, smoggy atmosphere will allow Vance some occasional comfort and a lot of cover. His hermatophagy will definitely be satisfied away from home too, on account of all the Trogs he's likely to encounter. After all, they were once human too.

Vance should also be a prime negotiator in that hellhole. His isolation will have given him a prime sympathizing position for the former Slaves out there. But I do hope Cross can keep him in check, and from gathering more "vampires…"

…

Member: Charon

Team: 2nd

Position: Scout/Black Ops

Individual Holdout Ability: High

Notes: Ol' Charon still won't allow me to destroy his contract. Poor bastard is a slave to his own warped mind. But Gob's been good to the dude, so I hear, and has given him some more peaceful duties as of late. Suffice to say I'm sure he'll be eager to get back to the field.

Charon may be a full-frontal fighter at heart, but he's good as a scout too. It's only because his damage resistance is so low that I'm assigning him to Black Ops. He and Vance will make a prime scouting team, especially if they end up having to traverse the Steel Yard.

…

Member: Dogmeat

Team: 1st

Position: Scout/Black Ops

Individual Holdout Ability: Low

Notes: Everyone was a little wary about me bringing along the mutt for this mission, but they don't know ol' Dogmeat like I do. He's a great scout, and a formidable fighter in his own right. I just hope if they do find him all those chinks don't train their guns on him at once…

…

Member: Machete

Team: 2nd

Position: Scout/Black Ops

Individual Holdout Ability: Medium

Notes: As the saying goes, "They grow 'em strong in Lamplight." Machete was really all that Canterbury Commons could offer me, as most of the rest of the guards are always being used for the trade route. But she is a veteran, and she's definitely better than some rent-a-cop.

She may be a bit miffed that she's being assigned to Black Ops rather than Frontline, but I think she'll soon find that it suits her abilities better. She may be too proud to realize it, but the only reason she ever got by before was because of Dominic's guidance. Hopefully she won't give Cross too much trouble.

…

Member: Donovan

Team: 1st

Position: Medic

Individual Holdout Ability: Medium

Notes: Donovan is the best combat medic you'll find in the Capitol Wasteland. It was difficult to convince Reilly to hand him over, but I had my sights set on him from the beginning. The two medics in my arsenal are the only individuals I had reservations for, so I'd have been damned if I didn't get them.

I know Reilly tries her hardest, but the Rangers are getting a bit too jumpy for their own good. Ever since they eradicated Talon Company and annexed Evergreen Mills for their new base, the Rangers have been the only mercenary franchise in the Capitol Wasteland. Then, after all those Raiders joined up with them for the benefits they tripled in size the first week. Well now they're certainly big enough for the demand. But I think it made them a bit uppity.

Reilly and Donovan are the only members that still give me respect in that hole. Furthermore, Donovan's really the only one that rightly remembers what happened all those years ago on top of the Statesman Hotel. They all owe me, and they'd better remember it…

…

Member: Lucy

Team: 2nd

Position: Medic

Individual Holdout Ability: Low

Notes: I was hesitant to have Lucy sent to the Pitt, but I needed Donovan on my team, so the choice was obvious. Lucy's more of a doctor than a medic anyway. No real combat training. I only hope the Pitt isn't too traumatizing for her, although I'm sure they've fixed up the joint in the couple years since I've been there.

Lucy's a strong girl though. I bet she's seen her share of crap across this Wasteland to keep her from wetting herself. They grow 'em strong in Lamplight, after all. She'll be fine in that hellhole. Plus, if she's got any problems she always has Cross and, if she's still alive, Midea too.

…

Member: Fozzy

Team: 1st

Position: Drafted

Individual Holdout Ability: Unknown

Notes: Fozzy sure took it hard when I drafted him for this. We had to get three Knights to drag his flailing little body out. He tried to give me some crap about his rights to freedom, but he's on our turf now. If the bastard doesn't know our rules, that's too bad for him. Around here we've taken the law into our own hands. Since Fozzy's not a registered merchant, I can exploit him for work to get him a license. Hello, loophole…

He'd better not screw anything up. At the first sign of trouble from him I have authorization to cripple his paper-thin legs. He's not required for fighting. Unfortunately, I'll need his knowledge of the east coast route to get to Trenton. If I do end up breaking his limbs, Fawkes'll be able to carry him I suppose, but it'll make negotiating with him next to impossible. So to keep that contingency from rearing its ugly head, I've prepared some insurance. I've promised him an order of acquisition for all of his stock, at full price. That ought to shut the little shit up.

…

Processing…

Exiting Database…

…

Please choose your desired directory from the list below…

…

WARNING! HIGHLY RESTRICTED DATABASE! FOR AUTHORIZED EYES ONLY! PLEASE INPUT PASSWORDS

Password

Password

Password

Password

Processing…

Welcome Authorized User. Please select Database.

…

File 6-3-564 (RESTRICTED)

…

Please select Sub-Directory

…

Strike Team Communication Notes

…

Oh dear. I had hoped we wouldn't have to bring this one out for at least another ten years or so. The repairs haven't been fully completed, but at least I can rest easy with the knowledge that we have it. Definitely looks like a prime opportunity to test it anyhow. I just hope it works when and if we really do need it.

The Zeta Satellite Communications System will be put on a test run for this mission. The radios are complete, now I just have to hope the uplink holds up. Everyone is still ignorant of that big ol' Silver Saucer still up in the sky, except for me and… well, I just hope she's still around and kicking. I miss that girl.

I still bring Sally some goodies every now and then. Growing up on that ship away from major human contact has kept her a bit immature, but there's absolutely no one that can match that girl in terms of intelligence. Even I can't keep up on her absent-minded mutterings on quantum mechanics and physics junk and all that jazz. Elliot told me one visit that she's read all of the information recordings in the ship's library at least three times. That was over a year ago. She has to have read them all at least once more by now…

I will admit, thinking back to that fateful day they beamed me up on that ship, that I was always afraid Elliot would snap pretty soon after I left. But for all his paranoia, he's adapted quite well to the inescapable fact that he'd been left in cryo for more than 200 years. One of the best coping mechanisms I've ever seen in a human. Although I must admit I believe Sally's company is probably a prime factor in it. He's acted as a suitable father for her, I must say. I couldn't possibly have done a better job myself. After all I have, like, zero experience. On second thought, I probably have a negative score.

Which reminds me, what will happen to _my_ genes? I suppose that despite all my responsibilities I must eventually fulfill my duty as a human and pass on my genes before I meet my assumedly untimely death. Such a strange concept. I suppose it's a bit egocentric to think of it this way, but admittedly, I am quite the celebrity. I could get anyone I wanted in this Wasteland. But my conscience and my heart both know I shouldn't rush the decision. I suppose when the time is right I will find someone. Hehe, what would dad have me do I wonder?

Turning back to Sally and Elliot though, it must have been hard for both of them to face the fact that both their families and friends were all gone and even, in one case, long ago. But they've both filled that void for each other long ago, it seems. For a time I thought of extracting that old Anchorage simulator from McGraw's base and let Elliot take it for a spin, just to let him relive some pre-war times. But after much consideration I decided that I myself would never wish such a horrible memory dug up upon myself, much less would he, so the task was never put to fruition.

I just realized I've been rambling this entire time. Reminding myself to move the last few paragraphs into my personal journal.

But yes… It's a good thing that we have the ZSCS up and running, at least as far as it is. I'm still not sure how much damage that cannon will cause, so I'm being as cautious as possible. Maybe I'll make one last visit to the ship before I go and ask Sally to narrow down the blast radius. A pinpoint blast would be amazingly effective. Whatever the Chinese have, I highly doubt it's anything near as good as this.

On another unneeded note, I wanted to have Liberty Prime up and running as a surefire backup plan, but nooooo, Bowditch just HAD to insist that he continue to upgrade him after he was finished. He's demented. Claiming he never wants what the Enclave did to it to happen again. Like it ever could. The Chinese don't have that kind of power. Least not that they'd be able to station here without us knowing. I've ordered an immediate hiatus on the project so we can have him in a pinch, but it will take about three days or so to shrug off all the experimental parts and have him running at maximum again. I just hope it won't be too late by then…

…

Processing…

Exiting Database…

…

Welcome Authorized User. Please select Database.

…

Please choose your desired directory from the list below…

…

Please Select Database…

…

Strike Team Gamma Defensive Notes

Okay. It took me hours to plan this out, but I think I've covered it pretty well. I highly doubt they'll attack from the sea, and if they do, they'd just pop up in the most highly fortified place in the Wasteland.

I believe the SAT-Com arrays will serve as ample scanners for the north areas of the Wastes, but I'm setting up outposts all the same. Who knows if they're carrying jammers along with them?

The real problem is from the west. The outcroppings, cliffs, and hills make it difficult to protect the area evenly. Therefore, the 3rd Strike Team will keep watch on the entire western stretch of Wastes. I will set up listening posts as well, and keep response outposts along the way too. I'll be damned if anyone makes it through my defenses that I don't let through. The hired help just better not screw it up. I have no doubts in Harkness or Silas, but the others will be like wild dogs. I just hope Harkness can keep them on their leash and release them in the right direction when the time comes. I must meet up with him soon to discuss some contingencies…

…

Processing…

Exiting Database…

…

Welcome Authorized User. Please select Database.

…

Notes on File C-3-654

Which sub-directory do you wish to explore?

…

Welcome Isaac Croisso!

Please choose your desired directory from the list below.

…

Logging Off…


	4. 4: Final Preparations

_Alright. This one's just a little cinematic sort of chapter, where the hero gives a pep speech to his army. Pretty straight forward and it clears up a little of the stuff happening in the Wastes too. Not much but it's there. This isn't a real big or important chapter except in the foreshadowing it throws down between Isaac and Fozzy._

"You sure you've planned this out as well as you say?" asked Harkness, taking a hard look at the modified map of the Wasteland that Isaac had had him scan over. "I see some possible blind spots around here," he pointed to a spot on the left side of the paper.

"Well, this is just the outpost map," explained Isaac. "Here's the map that details the security detachments and traps that you'll need to set up. Oh, and here's the extra copies," he handed Harkness some more large piece of paper.

"Ah. Yes this is better. Although, don't you think this is a bit much?"

"I told you I spent a good chunk of the last few days deliberating on how to do this," said Isaac, crossing his arms. "But you're going to be spending even more time on building these," he smirked.

"Yes, yes, I already have a workforce ready," Harkness responded without acknowledging the condescendence in Isaac's voice.

"Well then you'd better get started. You'll be moving out right after I finish my briefing."

"Is everyone assembled already?" Harkness turned to Isaac and put both papers into his inside vest pocket.

"Sure are. They're in the other room. Come on," he walked away and through the door to the office, turning down the hallway. Harkness followed. The Capitol Building was still in great disrepair, but it had been restored somewhat after the Super Mutants were run out. Most of the bigger rooms were already redone and used for meetings and whatnot.

Isaac led Harkness into the Senate Floor where everyone else had already taken a seat (or another place, if they were unable to fit in the chairs). Isaac counted everyone and when he was sure that they were all there, he took the podium next to Cross, who was already there, and Harkness took his place next to him.

"Everyone," he began, testing the mike, "You have all received basic information on your assignments, but we need to do a quick briefing of the real action before anyone goes out. My team, the Watching Shadows, will head out across the Wastes up north and travel up to the checkpoint at Trenton, approximately 200 miles from here. Along the way we will search vigilantly for any sign of the invasion force. If we sight nothing by the time we reach Trenton, we will make our way straight back on a similar, but purposefully different route. I have calculated that the round trip should take sometime between three and four weeks, leaning on the latter. We will be on foot, but will still travel at a strenuous pace so as to finish this journey in as little time as possible. We will take few rests and quick breaks, but will still travel with suitable supplies. More specific details will be discussed when we begin our journey. Cross, your turn."

"I will be leading the Pitt Fighters, which will be traveling to the Pitt in the old Pennsylvania area," announced Cross, taking the floor immediately, "Many of you have heard horrible stories about Pittsburgh, and I assure you, they are all completely true," Cross stated with a steady, unwavering, commanding voice. She was good at this, Isaac thought. "It is a horrid, derelict city filled with radiation and dangerous creatures and people. You will be hard-pressed to maintain your sanity while you are there. But our mission is simple and quick. We have obtained a working Vertibird that will fly us to the city. This will be the simple part. When we arrive at the Pitt, we are to find the people there responsible for the city's upkeep and warn them of the invasion force. This is the best case scenario. What is more likely to happen is that we will find the entire city in ruins and will have to fight off single-handedly an entire detachment of Chinese. I hope you all can handle the pressure, because I'm not going to hold your hand through this. If we do manage to get through either contingency, we should be back in the Wasteland within two weeks."

Finishing her speech, several members of the Strike Teams, none of them under Cross' command, began snickering at the unfortunate souls that had to go along with her on this mission.

"So how come we can't use a Vertibird on our mission?" questioned Donovan from among the crowd.

"Good question," responded Isaac. "We can't use a Vertibird because we need to be sure that we aren't spotted in case we find a detachment or the main army. Especially so in the latter case. Our stealth is imperative to our mission. In fact, our mission is really an intelligence-gathering one, and I would like to avoid fighting as much as possible. The Vertibird being used by Cross' team is to ensure a quicker travel to the Pitt, because speed is of greater importance to their mission as stealth is to ours."

"Precisely. I want to get there, get out, and cut a bloody swathe through anything that gets in our way. It's that simple. Does anyone not understand?" finalized Cross. No one raised a hand or spoke. "Good. Harkness? Your turn."

"Yes," Harkness began, hesitating, "My group, though small, will be at work night and day for the next few days upholding our end of the bargain. We will be supervising the construction of several outposts, blockades, and traps that will be built along the western and northern borders of the Wasteland. We have upwards of a hundred men ready and waiting for orders. We will split the men 60/40 in favor of Roy and I. We'll take the west, while Silas and Jotun take the north. We will all have to make several trips across until everything is finalized. We will begin the excursions immediately after this meeting adjourns, so I hope you all have everything you need."

Isaac picked up the floor again. "Everyone on the two other teams will have two more hours, by my calculations, before all the preparations are ready. Cross, your team will head to the helipad at the Citadel, and my team will head out immediately to the Tri-Hound Republic. We'll spend the night there and head out north the next morning."

"This is probably the first time leaving the Wasteland for about 90% of you," he continued, "But remember this: you've survived everything in the Wasteland up till now. You've seen it all, lived it all. Whatever we come across out there may be worse, or it may even be better. But what you have to remember is this: humanity has survived so much simply by fighting against the impossible. This time is no exception. Even if we aren't able to stop the Chinese, and they do invade, we will continue to fight, because this is our Capitol! And we will not let anyone, even someone who has been our mortal enemy for hundreds of years, take it away from us! Are we clear on this!" Isaac exclaimed. An excited "hooah!" and other such cries rose up from the crowd, although Isaac noticed Fozzy sitting in a corner looking solemn, flanked by two Knights so he couldn't bolt. Isaac returned the "hooah!" with Harkness and Cross. Then he announced "Dismissed!" and walked off the platform with the others. Dogmeat immediately came up to greet him with a few happy licks.

He had been sitting obediently by Fawkes during the speeches. If there was anyone Dogmeat would obey besides Isaac, it was Fawkes. The three adventurers had been so close for years now that they had an unbreakable bond. But Fawkes paid little attention to Dogmeat. It wasn't out of uninterest, but he felt bad at having the mutt pay more attention to him than Isaac, when Isaac was the one who owned him. Such a sensitive Mutant.

"Hey boy! Haven't seen you in a bit! Been keeping a good eye on Moriarty for me like I asked?"

"Woof!" replied the dog happily. Isaac had had him keeping tabs on Moriarty for a few weeks now, reporting regularly to Simms. They couldn't leave that Irishman alone for even a second. But now he was back with Isaac, and there'd have to be another spy set up for Simms, especially since he was to take over Isaac's representative duties for a while. Maybe Clover could work as replacement spy. Isaac laughed and shuddered at the same time at the thought.

"Simms turned him over to me last night," stated Fawkes, walking up. "He seems to have gotten a bit bigger around the… hmm," growled the Mutant, stifling a bit of primal hunger in his throat, "The stomach area."

"Well we'll work that off pretty easily during this, won't we boy?" responded Isaac as he squished up Dogmeat face into a mock smile. The dog dropped out its tongue and whined.

"Are you sure that you have everything prepared?" asked Fawkes for the umpteenth time in so many days. "I have a bad feeling about this mission."

"You _always_ have a bad feeling about our missions, Fawkes."

"Paranoia is but a side-effect of… hmm… of caution," philosophized Fawkes.

"I suppose. You can never be too careful after all," agreed Isaac, standing back up.

"And I have been right many times in the past. Remember our trip through the Historical Archives? Or through the Deathclaw Sanctuary? Or what about our second trip through the Presidential Subway?"

"Alright! Alright! I admit that in hindsight I should've brought more grenades. But that's why I'm sure we'll be alright this time! I pulled out all the stops. Nothing could go wrong. At least on this end. But for us, that's why I have you. Nothing stops you, does it?"

"I would like it if you didn't refer to me as some sort of living shield."

"Oh come now. You know I have the utmost respect for you Fawkes. You've saved my ass more times than I care to remember, and I'll never forget it."

"Thank you, friend. Although many people know me, I am still aware of the awkward glances I get whenever I stroll into town. The Knighthood has gotten used to me after all these years, but some of the other Wastelanders haven't. You were the first though. Despite all the Mutants you destroyed previous to our meeting, you helped me out of that prison without so much as a second thought. Nothing in all my memory has meant more to me than your single act of kindness."

"What can I say?" shrugged Isaac. "I had a good feeling about you."

"Which is more than can be said for most of your decisions," laughed Fawkes in his deep mutant laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," dismissed Isaac as he walked over to Fozzy. "You got anything you need to do before we go?" he asked the merchant politely.

"Piss off. I'm not going."

"Oh you'll go alright. You'll go or I'll seize your cart for Smuggling."

"Back when I last stopped off here there wasn't near this much organization. What happened to the Wastes, huh? Cuz I think civilization happened. And you know what civilization must eventually yield," he hissed at Isaac, standing up and getting right in his face. If he hadn't been held back by the Knights, he might have been so close that their faces would have touched.

"Civilization yields many things, but not violence. Greed and unbalanced power yield violence, Fozzy. Now you'll help escort us up north, or I will seize your cart, your Brahmin, and your merchandise for Smuggling, and you will be put on trial and shortly imprisoned or, if you'd prefer, executed."

Fozzy just gritted his teeth and stared daggers at Isaac, who was standing at full height in a condescending and overbearing stance with his hands behind and below his back. "Do we have a deal, Fozzy?" he asked him politely.

"Does it look like I have a choice?"

"And if you run," continued Isaac as if he hadn't heard him, turning so that he was no longer facing Fozzy, "or resist, or mislead us purposefully, then we have full authorization to break everything not vital to you in your body and leave you for the Ants. Are we clear?" he looked sideways at the man, who was still held back by the two Knights.

Fozzy looked defiant and angry, but Isaac keenly noticed that under the façade he gulped involuntarily. He was getting under his skin. That was good. Although he wished that he didn't have to use death threats to do so. Some people can just be so uncooperative.

Isaac turned to Fawkes and noticed that Donovan had come up behind him. The team was all here.

"Alright everyone, huddle up," motioned Isaac as everyone drew in. "We've got only one pack Brahmin, albeit a very well-trained one, that _everyone_ will be in charge of protecting. It's got all our supplies minus some extras that will be loaded into everyone's travel packs for contingencies. We will travel from sunset to dawn and camp out in whatever cover we can find come daylight."

"I understand why we have to travel at night," broke in Donovan, mumbling, "But I still wonder about the safety violations that will entail."

"No worries," replied Isaac, holding up a finger, "We'll stick as close together as possible in order to provide a better defensive structure, and we'll take shifts on rearguard and point."

"On watch we will have one person stay up per day, who will be permitted to catch a light sleep while traveling on the Brahmin come nightfall. Obviously, this mean Fawkes will never take day watch."

"I can take day watch," insisted Fawkes, "I am able to stay awake longer than most humans. I can travel day and night if I need to."

"That won't be necessary, but if you insist Fawkes, we can reach an agreement. Now everyone needs to get last minute preparations done and meet Dogmeat and I at the entrance to the Friendship Heights Metro at 1300 hours. Are we clear?"

"Hooah," agreed Fawkes and Donovan. Fozzy was still silent.

"Alright people let's move!"

As Donovan and Fawkes turned to leave Isaac turned to Fozzy once again. "Do you have anything to attend to?"

"You've got my Brahmin and cart under protection?" Isaac nodded. "And my inventory won't be touched till I get back?" Isaac nodded again. "What if I don't get back?"

Isaac smiled. "Well that's the rub, innit?"


	5. 5: Pity for the Pitt Fighters

_Ugh. Finally. Sorry for the wait, of course. I was getting into college and settling in so I could only write this in increments, which made it take much longer than it should've._

_So. I'm quite proud of this chapter, for the most part. I get to mess with more characters' personalities, and I think I did a good job. Took a lot of experimenting, but I think I found some good set formulas. Some of you might be put off by Lucy's and Vance's mannerisms, but I thought a long time about them and I'll explain it to you if you don't understand: Lucy, though now grown up and about 19 or 20 (I don't think she has a given age in F3, but I'm guessing it's about 11 or 12), would still have immature tendencies, due to her upbringing. She seems tough and independent in the game, yes, but if you lived in a cave for almost all your life and then have to leave the relative safety of your home to go to your prospective doom, wouldn't you break down a bit too? Don't worry though, she won't be a crybaby all the time._

_Vance. Oh, Vance. I had a time with Vance. His personality seems very undertoned and somewhat indifferent in the game, but I had a theory his leadership skills and position in his "clan" made him a bit high on himself, even if somewhat passively. I tried three personalities before I gave him the one in here, and I think it actually fits him rather well; an egotistical but empathetic manner. Maybe it's just my imagination though._

_Charon and Machete were pretty easy to flesh out, as they're basically the same. They're both tough, have extensive combat training and hair triggers for violence, and I think I'm going to have fun making a rivalry between them._

_Cross was pretty easy to make, as you get a good feel for her personality running around with her in game. I think it's the same with all the companions, minus Clover of course, because she's a fucking unpredictable time bomb. I think her "Sense of Justice" personality and leadership skills make her a good balance between friend and Sergeant._

_Lastly, RL-3 was the absolute easiest, as, like with Cross, you get a great feel for him when he's your companion. In addition, he's a Mister Gutsy robot, so he has a set personality. I love what I can do with his ironically signature style of talking._

_Oh, and points for anyone who can translate the gibberish. I doubt if you put it back through a translator it'll come out quite the same, so good luck!_

"Come on, dirtbags! Let's move it! And where are Lucy and Vance?"

"I have seen them bringing up the rear, ma'am! Medic Lucy is getting cold feet, so Operative Vance is consoling her! I reminded them to not be late but they simply ignored me! Damned humans and their emotions…."

"That'll be all, Sergeant. Now get aboard that Vertibird!"

"Affirmative, sir!"

Cross watched as RL-3 floated onto the Vertibird's hold and onto a cylindrical receptacle, specially made to accommodate Mister Handies and Mister Gutsies. His thruster died down slowly until it connected with the receptacle, and he promptly shut down, connecting his circuits with the ship's for a recharge.

She turned her head to watch for Lucy and Vance, and sure enough, there they were walking through the entrance to A Ring. They hobbled a bit, Lucy clinging onto Vance and him holding her tight. It was obvious when they got a bit closer that Lucy was sobbing. "What's the matter, soldier?" questioned Cross in a softer voice than she had been using.

Lucy looked up at Cross through tearful eyes, then averted her gaze into Vance's sleeve. "She is afraid," stated Vance very indifferently. "She, like many Lamplighters, has never left the Capitol Wasteland. Raised as she was, she is still very immature, despite her past and present responsibilities. She has not yet learned to face her anxieties on her own. It is fortunate I am here, as I have seen this trial faced many times by several members of my flock. It will take some time, but I believe I can help her."

"We don't have time, Vance," said Cross crossly, "We gotta move _now_."

"Then I must work quickly and under pressure. Fortunately I am skilled in this regard."

"Yes, yes, just get on the ship!" yelled Cross. Lucy shrank more into Vance's arm.

Vance held Lucy and vice versa as they simultaneously boarded the craft. Cross wondered whether it was a bad idea keeping Lucy on. But a medic was indispensable. She hoped Vance was as effective as he bragged.

Lastly Cross turned to an initiate throwing some supplies into the rear of the Vertibird. "Is everything loaded?"

"Yessir, Cross, ma'am!" saluted the initiate, almost dropping the last box he was loading in. He had to awkwardly catch it with two fingers by the fastening rope tied around it. The weight of the box almost made him fall over, but he steadied himself with the side of the craft and heaved the last box in. Then he closed the cargo door and saluted Cross again. "Fueled, loaded, and awaiting your command, Paladin Cross!"

"Good. As soon as we leave the platform, I want a report sent to Isaac. If we don't make it back within three weeks I want a search party sent out, _on foot_. That direction is imperative. Put emphasis on the fact that they may not use the railroad tunnel. You may take that order to Lyons yourself."

"Yessir, Cross, ma'am!" eagerly saluted the initiate. And he half-ran, half-stumbled quickly off the platform.

Cross took one last look at the crowd that had gathered around in the courtyard and saluted them all. They all returned the favor, and Cross promptly turned away and boarded the Vertibird. As she climbed on the bay doors began to close automatically.

Inside she noted her teammates: On the frontmost left seats sat Lucy and Vance, Lucy still holding onto Vance and actively sobbing, Vance now sitting statuesquely upright except for his hand which ran delicately through Lucy's auburn hair. He wasn't even looking at her. Cross thought of his look as a machine built to comfort little girls.

On the frontmost right seats sat Charon, alone and already grabbing the opportunity for a nap. Cross didn't really feel like trying to strap in next to a sleeping ghoul, especially one heavily trained for combat with a reaction trigger to danger.

On the back right seats sat Machete, sitting and cleaning a Chinese Assault Rifle barrel. The rest of the gun lay strewn about the cabin floor in front of her. Cross made her way over to sit next to her, as there were no other seats. The back left seats had been removed to make way for a large pile of cord and several instruments that soldiers could use to grapple down from midair.

She sat down and buckled in next to Machete. The old-time Lamplighter barely recognized her presence. She just kept on cleaning her gun. "Feeling anxious, Machete?" questioned Cross, simply to try and make conversation.

"Mmm," responded Machete. Cross left it at that and decided to take a nap. She drifted off to sleep as the craft began to take off. The rumbling vibrations rocked her as she drifted out of consciousness. Her thoughts rolled lazily to Isaac as the Vertibird cleared the Citadel.

…

When Cross awoke, the first thing she noticed was the lack of activity. There wasn't even any sound besides the hum of the Vertibird's engines. She took a cursory look around and noticed everyone was asleep. Charon was still out, and Machete had finished cleaning her gun, which lay across her lap, and sat with her head back, drooling, with her arms hanging off the side of the chair and one thrown on Cross' leg. RL-3 was obviously still charging, and Lucy had given up crying for falling asleep against Vance's shoulder. Only Vance was still awake, or so it seemed, and was sitting upright in his chair, staring fixedly into space.

Cross unbuckled her self and removed Machete's arm from her leg, putting it back on the seat when Cross removed herself from it. She quietly began to walk towards the cockpit, taking care not to wake anyone. She almost jumped when Vance said, "I believe she has worked it out of her system. All the better though, I suggest you speak to her when we land for refueling."

Cross looked over at him, but Vance was still staring straight ahead. He didn't look like he'd even said anything at all. She continued to walk to the cockpit, opening the steel door with as little noise as possible, and slipping inside. Closing it behind her, inside she found one of the pilots sleeping and the other lazily flying the craft. Outside the viewports she couldn't help but marvel at the dark landscape as it sped past below. The moon was high and looming, seeming so close now that Cross imagined she could touch it. Her spell of amazement was broken when the pilot noticed her and announced, "Oh, good thing you're up, Paladin Cross," he stated as he saluted her. "We'll have to land within the hour and refuel. After that we should be at the outskirts of The Pitt within 3 more hours."

"Very good. You may take the craft down at the soonest possible opportunity. How long will it take to refuel?"

"About one hour to refuel and do a maintenance checklist, ma'am."

"That'll be perfect," she said as she turned and opened the door again. This time she didn't bother to try and keep quiet. Not that she deliberately slammed the thing. That would've been a dick move. Instead she opened and closed it normally, and walked straight into the cabin. "Alright everyone, wake up. We're about to land," she announced. Not yelling, but just loud enough to wake everyone up.

"Whuz? We there already?" mumbled Machete, rubbing her eyes.  
"No, we're landing for refueling."

"The ship or us?" chimed in Charon, awake for presumably the first time since the mission began.

"Both. We will unload some provisions and have a quick rest," she announced as she strode over to RL-3's recharging station and began typing something into a panel next to it.

"*yawn* What's going on?" mumbled Lucy as she rubbed her face with both hands.

"Refueling," said Vance, now suddenly coming to life and unbuckling himself from his chair. "It will do everyone some good to get some fresh night air."

"W-we have to go outside?" trembled Lucy.

"Not to worry," said Cross, not specifically at Lucy, "We will have our weapons out for a contingency, and if necessary we can take refuge inside the craft if an attack comes. This Vertibird has been specially outfitted with reinforced armor for this mission."

"Hey that reminds me," spoke up Machete as she snapped her finger, "Does this tank have missiles on it?"

"Yes, and nobody gets to use them but the pilots or I," answered Cross quickly.

"Hmph," pouted Machete.

"So when are we landin'? I'm so hungry I could eat a human," cut in Charon. Everyone looked at him in silence. After a minute he threw up his hands and said, "Kidding."

A moment later the craft began rumbling as they started their descent. When they touched down the doors immediately began to open and the rumbling started to wind down. Cross pushed a final button on RL-3's panel and the robot came to life again, his optical sensors rising and his thrusters spitting out embers. As he fully regained consciousness he exclaimed, "Sir! Are we ready to kick some Commie ass yet, sir?"

"No, Sergeant. I'm putting you on patrol duty while we take a quick rest and refuel the craft. Only a few more hours and we will reach our destination."

"Then Commie killing, sir?" questioned the robot almost hopefully.

"I've told you before, soldier, no killing unless there's a definite threat. And that's _my _definition of a definite threat. Not yours." The Sergeant let loose a disappointed grumble. Or at least Cross thought it was a grumble. It was really all a bunch of static.

As the doors opened fully everyone eagerly jumped out of the cabin. In RL-3's case, floated down. "RL-3, assume security pattern R-2 Alpha. Do three sweeps and switch to R-1 Alpha. Further instructions as warrants," saluted Cross as she turned to him.

"Sir, yes sir!" announced the robot. He immediately floated away and began rotating slowly in a circle around the craft at about 50 yards. He kept facing away from the craft no matter where his route took him. His optical sensors always pointed to his sides and in front, so no ambush could be missed in the dark.

Speaking of dark, it was quite so, as the Vertibird's lights were disabled and the engine fully shut off as both pilots climbed out of the craft. The only light allowed was the moon and the pilots' pocket flashlights as they did their check. Cross opened the cargo hold and took out a medium-sized crate marked "Rations". She pried open the lid with a screwdriver and took out seven ration boxes, one for everyone (RL-3 didn't have to eat after all).

As she handed out the rations Charon walked around behind her and stuck his head in the cargo hold. "Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed as he pulled out with some difficulty a large box marked "Various Ammunition" with a smaller printed list of containments stamped under it.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, soldier?" questioned Cross with two ration boxes still in her hands.

"Not gonna *oof* be ambushed without a ready supply of ammo," Charon struggled as he carried the box a ways and set it down. He proceeded back to Cross, snatched up a ration box and said, "Don't worry, I'll put it back when I'm done." Then he walked back over and sat on the box.

"There'll be no ambushes as long as RL-3's patrolling the area," Cross said back to him as he sat down. She wasn't exactly a hundred percent sure of this of course, but her announcement made her feel better about it anyways. She took the last pack and sat down over near the others. They sat in a loose circle, facing each other. Charon was facing away from the Vertibird though, scanning the horizon.

"So, what's the Pitt really like?" questioned Lucy after ten minutes of stony silence in which most of the operatives had finished their rations.

"None of us have ever seen it," replied Cross, "Except Isaac that is. I was an Initiate in the Brotherhood back when the Scourge happened, so I wasn't brought along. I heard the others talk about it when they got back though. And Kodiak. He was the oldest boy they'd brought back with them. When I became a Paladin, my first assignment was Initiate Training. Lo and behold there he was. Kodiak, about ten years older at that time, was the pick of the year. Sometimes while I was training him, my curiosity would get the better of me and I would ask him what he remembered about the place. His memories would always add up to one thing. The place was hell. It really didn't matter which way you sliced it. The Raiders, more powerful than the ones in the Capital Wasteland, would always be at war with the people, and those that stayed irradiated for long periods of time turned into monsters."

"Jeez," interrupted Machete, "The girl didn't ask for a life story."

Cross looked sideways at her, then continued, "It's bad. Very dark, very slimy, very irradiated. Fire and steel everywhere. Not like our Capital Wasteland. It's a hole of death. Be very careful," she concluded.

Lucy began whimpering again, very softly, and Vance put his arm around her. She stopped whimpering and simply sighed and looked down. "So, what's going to happen if the Chinese are already there?"

Suddenly the Vertibird exploded. There wasn't even warning, just a small mushroom cloud where it had been seconds before. Everyone was blown back, except for RL-3, who stayed his ground (air) and had been patrolling near them at that moment.

"What the hell was that?" yelled Cross half-rhetorically.

"Scans of the blast radius indicate a firing origin of approximately two-hundred-and-fifty yards west-southwest of our current position, sir!" responded RL-3, switching his weapon appendages to his Plasma Rifle.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Plasma Rifle*_

_The Enclave Plasma Rifle is the counterpart to the Plasma Pistol that was developed exclusively for the US Army back in the pre-war era. A rifle most powerful at medium range, its Microfusion Cell ammunition is transmuted into plasma bolts that have the capability to liquefy foes with a well-placed shot. It can be used as a long-range weapon, but shots fired travel at sub-sonic speeds, making them dodge-able. Its immense damage is offset only by its complexity and therefore its difficulty to maintain and repair._

"You heard the bot everyone, let's move!" barked Cross, drawing her own Plasma Rifle off her back. Everyone pulled their weapons out: Machete her Chinese Assault Rifle, Charon his Drum-round Shotgun, Vance an old Railway Rifle. Even Lucy reached trembling into her own holster and pulled out a Laser Pistol. "Lucy! Stay here, you'll be safer!" ordered Cross. "If you can, try and find the pilots!"

_*Weapon Information Profile: Chinese Assault Rifle*_

_Developed by Chinese industrial conglomerate Norinco, the Chinese Assault Rifle was a cheap and powerful answer to the standard issue R91 Assault Rifle for American armies in the pre-war era. Several million were shipped or smuggled to America for Communist insurgents and infiltrators during the Resource Wars. Many thousands of the stock shipped over have survived after the war and due to their ease of use and maintenance have been picked up by anything from leftover insurgents to Super Mutants. With faster fire and more power per shot than the American R91, its no wonder this assault rifle is a widely-used alternative to hard-to-find energy weapons. _

_*Weapon Information Profile: Combat Shotgun*_

_This unnamed model of the classic drum-magazine-style Combat Shotgun was developed as the main weapon for American close assault fire teams during the Resource Wars, specifically, the Anchorage Reclamation. Many models were brought back to the mainland after the war. Like the R91 and Chinese Assault Rifles, many models survived and were salvaged after the Great War. Vastly superior to the common Sawn-Off Shotgun, the Drum-Magazine was revolutionary by combining incredible power with a large magazine, although its spread is quite large. Unfortunately, the cheap manufacture and high pressure that shots fired put on the weapon make it quite prone to breaking._

_*Weapon Information Profile: Railway Rifle*_

_A miracle of Post-War weapon manufacturing, the Railway Rifle is a Junk Gun made from a regular medical crutch, pressure cooker pot, a fission battery, and a steam gauge assembly. The crutch makes the stock, handle, and assorted bridging between barrel and piston of the weapon, made up of the steam gauge assembly. The pressure cooker, combined with the fission battery, create a high pressure firing chamber and pin for the gun, allowing the effective firing of its unique ammunition, Railway Spikes. While not as effective at longer ranges, due to its crude air pressure-firepower, at close or medium range the railway spikes can easily drill through and crush bones, resulting in a pinning of body parts to nearby walls and such, or at least a broken limb. As a benign added bonus, the air pressure released with each shot by the pressure cooker also creates a comedic horn-like sound, similar to an old pre-war steam train._

_*Weapon Information Profile: Laser Pistol*_

_The sidearm companion to the pre-war wonder, the AER9 Laser Rifle, the AEP7 Laser Pistol carries the same firing mechanism as the rifle, although it is far lighter and uses a different wattage than its counterpart. While the rifle uses Microfusion Cells to emit a particle beam at over 2000 watts, the pistol uses half that, carrying not as much punch, but still proving a reliable and practical sidearm. Its Energy Cell ammunition is far easier to find than Microfusions as well, making it easier to maintain. Due to the extreme wattage found in both weapons, powerful shots landed by each weapon have a chance to dissolve targets into a fine ash. _

Cross led point with the other four members following her in a scattered pattern. As they headed for RL-3's scanning point another rocket shot out at them, nearly hitting Charon. He managed to dodge it though, and it exploded somewhere behind him. "They've got Missiles!" he announced to Cross.

"Then let's give 'em a taste of our own! Aim and fire, RL-3!"

"Roger, Commander!" replied RL-3, a small missile sliding into a specially configured barrel that had been retrofitted on the robot's side. The robot took a moment to aim, during which a short series of beeps were emitted. The rocket shot out of the barrel with a stream of smoke, exploding a few dozen yards away.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Missile Launcher*_

_An unnamed and mechanized model of bazooka, the Missile Launcher is a recoil-free rifle than fires anti-personnel missiles from its precision-sized barrel. Although lacking in power than should be expected from it, it is invaluable in scattering close-knit groups of soldiers. Made for the American Army for riot control during the Chinese Insurgence, this launcher lacks the power of regular big weapons, but fires rockets using the ammunition's own fuel, resulting in an increased range. The weapon proved useful in its riot control purposes, easily stunning and knocking down its targets at long ranges. However, due to its lack of firepower and unease at reloading, it was never mass-produced for battle purposes._

As the team reached the impact sight, Cross ordered Charon and RL-3 on guard while the other three inspected the sight. They saw no men, no bodies. Nothing except for a rocket sentry lying charred and broken on the ground. Machete walked over to inspect a pile of missiles that were set up a few yards away, untouched by the blast radius. "This isn't right. They set up a sentry? What kind of cowardly, yellow-assed-"

"It's a trap!" yelled Vance. As if on cue a dozen men appeared over two nearby rocks, six behind each, wearing combat armor and helmets, and each a Chinese Assault Rifle. Before the team could react one more appeared from behind a sand drift wearing a well-kept officer's suit. He pointed a longsword at the group. "開槍！消滅他們！" he exclaimed. On command the twelve soldiers fired onto the group.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Chinese Officer's Sword*_

_A simple bladed weapon used as a status symbol for Chinese Insurgence and military officers, the Chinese sword is powerful and well-balanced. Built using the Jian style of Oriental sword, it offers good speed and weight for its ease of use. _

Cross was quick. She ducked behind a rock and pointed her gun over it, blind-firing for effect. Machete rolled out of the way too, but she had no cover, and ended up going prone. Vance jumped out of the way as well, landing behind a small rock, where he prepared to take aim at his attackers. Charon and RL-3 tried for a flank, running in opposite directions to the sides of the Chinese men.

RL-3 took another shot with his launcher, blowing up the six men behind the left rock. He managed to take out two, effectively blowing the rest back and scattering them. For the moment now there were only six left, plus the commander, who had drawn his own Pistol and was himself firing into the fray. Meanwhile Cross' random attempts had hit a mark, taking out one more of the other rock's team. She ducked behind the rock to reload.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Chinese Pistol*_

_The Shansei C96 Chinese Pistol was a cheap sidearm developed for Chinese soldiers, insurgents, and spies during the China-United States War and the Resource Wars. The pistol was easily mass-produced due to its simplicity and durability in materials, but it quickly became obvious it was a very weak weapon in regards to firepower. This weapon is the only rare case in which an American-made version of a particular type of weapon is actually better than a Chinese one._

Vance took aim and let loose three shots from his Rifle. He caught one of the men in the head with two of the three shots, the other one missing. The railroad spikes pierced the Chinaman's skull with significant force, shooting him back about ten feet as he flailed in his death throes.

Machete fired absent-mindedly with her rifle, more concentrated on finding a place to take cover, and ended up missing every shot. She got on her feet, still crouched down, and ran back to another rock a little ways away. Ducking behind it, she busied herself with reloading.

By this time Charon had reached the other rock and was picking off Chinese with his Shotgun at close range. He was having an incredibly easy time, since half of the remaining men were busy reloading when he reached them. He took out three with a few shots then advanced on the fourth, who had finished reloading, and was bringing about his Rifle right at the Ghoul's head. Charon was unfazed though, and ducked instinctively before the man could even draw level with him. He dropped his Shotgun and pulled out his Knife from his belt in one swift movement, making a drawing-slash at the Chinese man. He missed, as the man stepped backwards to dodge it, but he managed to effectively throw the man off-balance. With the opportunity open, Charon lunged at the man, tackling him down to the ground and relentlessly stabbing him like a madman.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Combat Knife*_

_A simple military-grade knife produced by the pre-war SharpWit Inc., the Stallona Combat Knife was developed as a mass-producible melee weapon for self-defense. It has a standard Bowie-shape with a single edge and clipped point, along with a serrated back edge._

RL-3 had reached the other side by now as well, quickly surveying the damage he'd done with the preliminary rocket, then checking the survivors, all done within seconds by his robot brain. The next step in his programming was pretty straight forward: kill anything that still moved. One of the remaining four men had already stood back up and was reloading his weapon, and two more were already getting to their feet. The last one was rocking sideways on the ground, holding his head in pain. RL-3 turned off his rocket launcher and switched to his Plasma Rifle arm, shooting dead the incapacitated man first, simply because he was the closest. He took aim at the man readying his weapon next, shooting him down with a few shots. Then for the other two he pulled out an arm with a Buzzsaw Blade on it and cleaved through them. "A good day for a Commie massacre!" he buzzed triumphantly as he was splattered with the soldiers' blood.

_*Weapon Information Profile: Mister Handy Standard Rotating Blade*_

_(RL-3 has this weapon as a modified attachment) A standardized attachment for the pre-war Mister Handy, developed by General Atomics International, it is usually used for construction-related purposes, although problems with logistics caused many reported instances of culinary- and medical-related mishaps. The sawblade has a built-in self-sharpener on its handle, allowing for less manual maintenance._

The last one standing was the Commander now, who had dropped his Pistol and was attempting to redraw his Sword. Cross and Vance were jumping out from behind their rocks already, and raced towards the Commander, guns armed and aimed. Machete was still in the process of reloading behind her rock, and hadn't noticed the change of pace yet.

But what no one had quite realized yet it was the Commander was really planning. As he drew his blade, he thrust out his arm, with the sword point towards his chest. He knew he didn't stand a chance against five American soldiers who'd managed to take out a full dozen of his men so quickly. He would be damned if he were captured as well.

"No!" screamed Cross as she realized the full extent of the situation. She dropped her gun and picked up her speed, not daring to try and shoot him lest she should actually kill him. But it was to no avail. The man put his other hand on the hilt of the Sword, about to thrust the blade straight through himself, when a roar rang out from behind him.

"RRAAAAAGH!" sounded the raspy yell, making the Commander drop his guard and turn his head. It was Charon, running at him full speed and brandishing the Knife. Before the Commander could react, he threw it at him. It hit his left hand, causing him to let go of the Sword with the one hand and drop it in shock with the other. At that break in momentum Cross and Charon both tackled the China man at the same time, in the front and back, the force of which nearly shattered his torso. Cross's tackle held more power though, due to the weight of her Power Armor, causing him to fall backwards on top of Charon.

While Cross wrestled with the Commander and Charon wrestled to get out from underneath them both, Vance, RL-3, and Machete all came up in turn, Vance and Machete grabbing hold of the Commander and forcing him onto his feet, holding his arms. Charon, coughing for air, rolled out of the way and onto his feet, as did Cross. "Jeez!" he yelled at Cross, "Could ya try any harder ta kill me?"

"Not now, Charon!" yelled Cross back at him. She came up on the Commander, who was busy trying to break free of Vance's and Machete's grasps, and clutched his neck in her hand. "Alright China boy, you're gonna tell us what we wanna know, and then we might not have to kill you, got it?"

"你不會得到什麼，我！從來沒有!" The Commander yelled at her through her clutch, still flailing.

"English! I want English!" Cross shouted, letting go of his throat and slapping his face.

Suddenly the Commander stopped flailing, hanging his head, as if the slap had knocked him out. Then he raised his head. "我希望當人民的光榮軍隊發現了你, 他們給你一個緩慢而痛苦的死亡…" the Commander breathed.

"What did he say?" Cross asked, posing the question to no one in particular. Suddenly and instantly the Commander began to seizure, flailing and shaking uncontrollably, causing Machete and Vance to drop him in surprise. He fell to the ground, still in a seizure, foaming at the mouth and kicking up sand as he flailed. Then quite suddenly he stopped, and there was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Uh…" started Cross, unsure of what to say.

"Is he dead?" asked Machete, lightly kicking one of his arms with her boot.

Vance slowly crouched down and, after putting one of his hands on his arm so he had a hold on him, just in case he was faking, he put his head against the man's chest. "He has no heartbeat," he announced, ear still on the man.

"What! Did anyone see him take a suicide pill?" demanded Cross.

"Impossible! We were holding his arms completely away from him!" answered Machete, gesturing to Vance and herself.

"Well he could've taken it before you grabbed him!" rebutted Cross.

"No," answered Vance, standing up beside the man. "Why would he have used a pill when he was about to stab himself?"

"I don't know… precautionary measures?" tried Cross, totally unsure herself.

"Hey," said Charon, coming up behind the dead man's head. "I remember once hearing somethin' about how the Chinese train their best soldiers. I think it was somethin' about havin' them taken away at birth so they could train them throughout their entire lives ta do things like inhuman or unnatural feats. I think I read it in an old army intelligence report or somethin'. They called 'em Super Soldiers, I think," he recited.

"So you're saying this guy just killed himself by thinking about it or something?" said Machete, trying to make something of it.

"It's as good a suggestion as anything," acknowledged Cross.

"My intelligence database has information that is similar to Operative Charon's suggestion, sir!" announced RL-3, whom no one had noticed was still floating next to them. "Those Commies trained hundreds of Super Soldiers from birth for the exclusive privilege of commanding their puny armies. The abilities they programmed into these men using horrific tests could range from Pyrokinesis to being able to kill themselves through sheer willpower."

"But that's totally cheating!" yelled Machete.

"I agree fully, soldier," RL-3 responded. "Those Commie cowards should at least have the decency to kill themselves the old fashioned way, or at least surrender if they couldn't pull it off…" the robot continued mumbling through static-y filters.

"Well, we can't do anything about it now. We killed them all so there's nobody to question. Let's head back to the Vertibird," Cross ordered, strapping her weapon back on. Everyone followed suit and made their way back, a much longer trip than earlier. Of course, the adrenaline had played quite a part then.

Approaching the wreckage once more, which was still substantially on fire, Cross called out, "Lucy! Lucy, are you still here? Where are you?"

"Over here!" came a weak yell from somewhere past them. Cross and company hurried past the wreckage to the other side, where they found Lucy sitting on the undamaged box of munitions that Charon had pulled out of the ship. She sat with her head down and back hunched, hands in her lap. She looked like a very pitiful young thing, despite how old she was now.

"Anything happen? Did you find the pilots?" Cross walked over and knelt down beside her.

"Over there," she answered, pointing one finger weakly to two bodies near the wreckage a little ways away. Machete, Charon, and Vance all ran over to check them, RL-3 staying behind near Cross and performing a stationary area scan, for cautionary purposes.

"Hey!" Machete called back to Cross. Vance and Charon were leaning down, checking on the bodies. "I think they're dead!"

"They are dead," Lucy said coldly, causing Cross to turn back to her. "I checked extensively. One died instantly of the explosion. Second degree burns everywhere. The other died of excessive trauma, although he didn't catch many burns. I pulled them away from the wreckage but… I-I threw up right after it, and I just sat on here to catch my breath."

"Well, you did good, honey," Cross tried to soothe her, stroking her hair.

"I… I thought I was going to die when the sounds died off from your battle. It was a battle, right? I heard gunshots… B-but when the sounds stopped, I… I thought you all died, and I was scared for my life…" she started to cry, but was obviously having difficulty, her tears probably all dried up from her previous exertions.

"Aw, there there," Cross tried her best to comfort her, giving her a hug. She gripped onto her armor like it was a security blanket, crying into it. She held her tightly while the others came back over.

"So. The Chinese are here already. That mean they've taken over the Pitt?" Charon asked, crossing his arms.

"I detect a rounded percentage of 95% that that is the case," interjected RL-3 from his position a few yards away.

"So how what are we gonna do? Storm the city and fight off every chink in sight?" Machete chimed in, her speech infected with a nervous tone that she was trying to hide with toughness.

"The mission should be postponed. We need to regroup and mount a counterattack back at the Captiol Wasteland," suggested Vance.

"No," Cross stood up, letting go of Lucy. "The mission will continue. Besides, we couldn't go back if we wanted. It would take weeks to get back to the Wasteland, and we haven't the provisions anymore. The fastest way now is the railroad tunnels, for which we'll need to reach the Pitt to access. We have no choice but to continue and hope for a miracle."

"Speaking of provisions," Charon said in a happy tone, walking over to the box Lucy was sitting on and tapping it lightly with his foot. "Who had the good foresight to grab a little something out of the ship?" he pointed both his thumbs at himself, bragging with a ghoulish smile.

"Aw, you want a medal?" Machete crossed her arms and looked sideways at him, irritated.

"Good work, Charon. Your instincts serve you well in all aspects of war," Cross congratulated him in a professional tone, lightly pushing on Lucy, signaling her to get off the crate. She took the hint and got off, going over to stand by Vance. Cross read the tag on the box, looking over the list of munitions. "Alright. There's a substantial amount of ammo in here, some for each of us. Vance, there's no Spikes, so you'll have to make due with what you have."

"I've enough for my own protection," he responded, pulling out a handful of fastened spikes from his pocket, then replacing them again.

"Alright. Everyone take what you need for now. RL-3, you'll be carrying this crate on your docking fixture."

"Yessir, Commander sir," the robot confirmed, opening up four holes in his head. Out of them whirred four prongs, like little claws that fixed into position.

They proceeded to load up their pockets with respective ammo, then they loaded the box up on RL-3, the prongs fastening it in place on his rounded head. It looked a little like a trashy hat for him. "I feel pretty," he said nonchalantly, then turned and floated a little ways away.

"Alright, here's what we'll do for now. We'll continue on by foot. We don't have time to salvage or hide the wreckage or bury the bodies. If we hurry, we should make the outskirts a couple hours after dawn. We'll find a vantage point and camp there, then we'll decide what to do after that. Let's move people. We have a lot of ground to cover," Cross finished her speech, shrugging her weapon on her back and moving out.

Machete follows suit with Vance behind her, followed closely by Lucy. Charon brought up the rear, side-by-side with RL-3. "So what do you think, robot?" Charon asked him for no reason.

"I think there's some Commies in need of being put down," he replied in a low tone, even though it brimmed with something akin to patriotic rage. Or maybe it was destructive ecstasy. Charon couldn't tell.

They trudged along silently away from the wreckage until they could only see the smoke over the hill.


End file.
